It's so strange: parents are the first most important people in our lives. They will always stay so. Our characters, emotional, physical and spiritual lives all depend on that primary influence.
Then they are gone, and all we can do is stand by their graves, thinking sweet and bitter thoughts, wishing to see their faces once again!
We (Taka, Roberta, Sonny, Serina and I) went for a visit to the Eternal Home cemetery in Colma, Ca. Taka was the first one out of the car to go and find the exact place, where we needed to go, because it wouldn't do for Roberta, even with her new walker, which she named "the Mercedes", to go wandering around the long, twisting paths among the graves.
She climbed out of the car. We brought the "the Mercedes" to Roberta's door,
but the next thing I saw, was her, bent over, hanging to it for dear life! Her legs just refused to hold her! We had a few very tense moments, with me struggling between holding on to the bouquet of flowers and Roberta's behind and trying to turn her around and sit my elderly friend on the walker!
Sometimes I feel like a real moron, putting her wellbeing at risk!
Like I said in the beginning, it's strange to visit one's parents' graves and know: we won't see each other until I am also dead and buried!
Why do Jews leave stones on the graves instead of the flowers? Perhaps, it's because the rocks express the stark reality of death: how hard and unyielding it is, just like a stone!
Well, what was there to do except to send the dear departed our good thoughts and prayers?!